What Remains Here

Chapter 11

November 19

Today was almost unbearable.

I suppose it's the fact that I'm still uncomfortable around guns. Even when Mira carries her pistol holstered on her waist with the safety on, I'm still worried that it might just randomly go off, take out my foot or my leg. While movies make it seem like a shot to the leg is harmless, I remembered reading that if it hits this certain artery that you'll actually bleed to death with virtually no chance of survival typically. And in these conditions, well, it's a death sentence.

That's why I was completely unenthused by the prospect of spending an entire day with Dean and the silent gun guy, James, I believe. To make matters worse, while I was walking up to them as they were chatting, leaning against the beginnings of the car wall fortifications, I noticed that they both had massive rifles (or were they shotguns? I'm not too sure) slung across their shoulders. I suppose that it's extremely irrational to still be uncomfortable around guns, but I guess that's the part of the old world that I'm still clinging to.

The only thing that kept today from being a complete mess was that Caspian was scheduled to head out with me today. A minute or so before I reached the car wall, I heard him call my name, so I slowed down and turned around, seeing him jogging to catch up with me. When he reached me, I had to wait for a long minute for him to catch his breath before he could speak.

"You doing better today?" I asked.

"Yeah, why would I be," he said, and I furrowed my eyebrows because he obviously wasn't fine yesterday, so I didn't expect him to be at a hundred percent. "If you're thinking about yesterday, I just want to say thanks again. It was really helpful, like it helped a ton, but I just want today to be a new day."

I couldn't tell whether he was faking his optimism like usual or whether he's actually telling the truth. I suppose the fact that I couldn't figure it out probably means that what he confessed helped, at least to some degree, even if the way he's dealing with this is awfully roundabout. But I guess I'm like this too, so maybe the stories that promise a type of linearity, well, maybe they're just trying to tell a nice story.

So I didn't push further, not like I had time to since as soon as we reached the car wall, Dean began barking orders at us, telling us that we'd better hurry up and walk to the woods otherwise we'd be left behind (as if that was an option). I don't think this particularly bothered Caspian, though for some reason, it particularly irritated me.

When we got to a bit of a small clearing, a small picnicking area surrounded by lichen crusted fences, Dean and James began placing tin cans on top of stumps, tables, and on the floor, seemingly randomly. After both of them finished placing down the cans, Dean turned towards us, placing his hand on the pistol holstered on this waist.

"Alright, we're first going to get some practice hunting any small game that we may encounter," Dean said. "This should be very easy, so I doubt that we're going to stay here for long unless either of you have no aim.

James then pulled out a pistol from his holster, and Dean did the same thing, placing them onto an old bench for us to observe. While I stayed back, eyeing them warily, Caspian went forwards without hesitation to grab the gun, which surprised me a bit since I never expected him to be so gun-friendly. I guess I've always associated gun ownership with anything else than his usually sunny personality. James stopped him before he could touch it though.

"We're not shooting it," James replied. "We'll just practice your stance and safety and give some tips for emergencies. There's not enough bullets to justify a live round practice. After that, we'll train you to use slingshots that Dean and I made."

"Shouldn't we focus on the slingshots first because it's something that we'll need to master first?" I said. "Things like bullets will eventually run out but not stones."

"Look, it's not like we're shooting if that's what you're irrationally scared about. Everyone will eventually need a gun to defend themselves–" Dean, who was pretty exasperated with me, was saying before he got cut off by James.

"He's right. We'll do the gun lessons at a later date," James said before pulling out two slingshots from his backpack and handing them to Caspian and I as I noticeably breathed a sigh of relief.

"Alright," Dean replied before facing Caspian and I. "But you two better be careful with the slingshots. It took James and I a long time to make good, working ones, and I swear if you break them, I will force you to spend hours drilling tiny holes by hand."

I think that's about the only time where Dean's threat actually had some bite to it because from the quality of the slingshot, it's clear that they had spent hours on it. The handle was made from a smooth forked branch to ensure that we wouldn't get splinters with a leather handle glued to the base to ensure that we'd have a steady grip. The elastic portion of the weapon was made from rubber bands tied to a small leather sling that we'd place stones into to fire. When I looked closer at where the rubber bands met the wood, I finally understood what he meant in this threat. A thin bronze-colored metal wire looped through a small but somewhat messy hole and around where the rubber bands were held on the forks of the branch, ensuring that it wouldn't slip.

"Sweet," Caspian said, looking at the slingshot. "Damn, this is really impressive."

"It is," Dean replied. "It is accurate to within two or three yards."

"Two or three yards?" Caspian repeated back. "That–"

"It's not like we have bows, alright," Dean responded, clearly annoyed. "And there are no weapon stores here, so we don't have access to any proper ones that can hit targets over 10 yards away. We've got to make do with what we have."

"I was going to say that's impressive," he replied. "I've definitely been able to sneak up closer than three yards for pigeons and geese, so this should be a piece of cake"

"Oh..." Dean said, a bit surprised. "Thanks. Now let's get to work."

Working the slingshot was actually a bit more complicated than I had expected. For one, the grip isn't at all what I had expected. I thought I had to grab the handle like a tennis or badminton racket, but actually, you want to grip the handle close to the fork in the branch in order to keep the shot steady and not accidentally veer off into random directions.

That's not the only thing that I was surprised by. When you're aiming, your body is supposed to be sideways, just like archery, instead of directly facing the targets, and it's better to hold the slingshot sideways too instead of vertical since it's just more natural. There were some more obvious things that I was able to grasp quickly, like aiming slightly above the target and really pulling the interwoven rubber bands as far as I can to make sure that the stone smacks the target hard (presumably killing it).

But I swear, loading the slingshot had to be the most complicated thing. It not only has to be loaded in the middle of the band, a task that seems easy until you actually attempt to find the middle of a tangle of rubber bands. After a lot of struggle, we ended up using a marker to color the middle of the chain of rubber bands, solving this issue, but this led to the second problem for me: finding the middle of the midpoint of the band.

It turns out that loading the stone too low in the spot will cause the stone to drop too far to undershoot the target while loading the stone too high will cause it to fly backwards. I kept making mistakes loading the stone that I thought that Dean was going to yell at me. At one moment, I think he was about to, but James put his hand on Dean's shoulder to stop him before I got yelled at, which I was grateful for.

Anyways, it took me a long time to figure out how to load the stone perfectly in the middle of the band in order for it to fly properly and smack the target hard enough to knock it down. And funnily enough, I was awful at this while Caspian was scarily good, which I did not expect. Like, he was able to hit the cans that were three yards away after two or so tries while it took me a dozen or so tries to get it.

I guess it's a bit weird because you'd never expect that an expert slingshotter to be all boisterous and loud like Caspian is. I mean, archery and slingshotting feels like such introverted sports because they require concentration and quiet, but when Caspian is shooting the stones, it's like he's laser focused on the target, maybe tapping into his competitive sports mindset. It's too bad that I couldn't tap into my test-taking mindset and translate it to slingshotting.

Before we finished up training, Caspian challenged me and James to a slingshotting competition. Naturally, I bowed out because there was no chance that I would win, so it was James and Caspian going head to head against each other.

"You got this James," Dean said, grabbing James' shoulder and shaking it. "Let's show them who's boss."

"Well, I guess 'Go Caspian'" I said, flashing a thumbs up at him.

I probably shouldn't have rooted for Caspian because he got destroyed. I suppose I was right in labeling James as the gun guy because he has killer accuracy with projectile weapons, using the slingshot to cleanly knock out the targets from up to five yards away. When Dean proclaimed James as the winner, it seemed like Dean was more excited about the victory than James, though his ski mask and sunglasses make it hard to figure out his emotions.

"We'll get them next time," I told Caspian.

"We will," he said and playfully added. "But I finally found something I'm better at than you."

"We'll see about that."

"Is that a challenge?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Naw, I'll let you have this," I replied, and we laughed a bit as we followed James and Dean, who were walking side-by-side, into the woods.

"We should split up," James said a couple minutes after we entered the woods, the brown leaves crunching underneath our feet and his rifle thumping softly against his back. "We will cover more ground. I'll check the traps on the east with him."

He pointed at me before directing his attention to Dean and continuing. "And you check the ones on the west. We'll circle back here to go check the ones down by the river."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows before sighing. "Sounds like a plan."

So Caspian and I split into our two groups, and as we walked away from each other, the world once again drifted into a silence, unbroken by the chirping of songbirds or the rush of streams flowing against rapids. I wonder if the situation worsens, the crops in the greenhouse collapsing or the woods and oceans running out of food, and we don't make it, that the world will go completely silent, even more so than the world our long-ago ancestors faced.

We didn't talk much as we trekked through the forest, passing by the spiky stems of the dried thistle that filled the small meadows that used to grow in the patches of light let through the thick canopy. To be honest, it was a bit refreshing because I got a bit of a breather from the constant pressure to converse, and given that he didn't attempt to talk throughout much of the hike through the woods, I think that he also enjoyed the breather.

I guess I felt a bit comfortable around him because it's like I could just tell that he's the same way as me when it comes to socializing, a fellow quiet person in a world where people are starved for social connection. At least that's my gut instinct, but I could be wrong because during the long hour or so walk, we only briefly talked.

Anyways, unfortunately, the east side of the woods was a complete bust since none of the traps had caught anything, not even a tiny squirrel. All we did was just refill the bait, a tiny helping of mixed vegetables, make sure that the branch holding the snare hadn't dried up and was still flexible, and create a stronger funnel, which involved creating a path to the snare by creating a small wall of leaves to guide the small game to the trap.

There were a couple of instances where the bait had disappeared, either seeming eaten by a larger animal like wild turkey or, more likely, knocked off the perch by the wind, but overall, all we found were dried pieces of carrot and bell pepper next to a rope snare, both of them untouched. It's really like the ash caking the woods has frozen life here underneath a gray mat even better than snow because, at least, come spring, it'll melt. I don't think the woods will ever recover from the ashfall.

"You hike much?" he asked all of a sudden, his voice gruff and muffled by the two layers of masks on his face after we checked the last trap on the east side of the woods and began heading back. I think he thought that I was uncomfortable with the quiet (and normally, I'd think the same thing of him), which is why after walking in relative silence, he decided that he should speak.

"Sorry, what?" I replied, a bit embarrassed that I didn't catch a single word he said, partially because I was lost in my thoughts.

He cleared his throat and spoke a bit louder. "You hike much in these woods?"

"Oh, well not a ton before the Mooncrash," I replied. "But a lot more now since I've been out a couple times with the Johnsons. It's a lot quieter than I expected, you know, with us not really finding much caught in the snares."

"It's likely silicosis," he replied. "Small lungs are more affected by the ash. There'll still be some. Our best chance is by the river."

"Yeah, alright," I replied, and we returned back to silence until we reached the meeting spot to wait for Caspian and Dean to return before we could continue down to the river. We stood around awkwardly, me crunching the brown leaves underneath my sneakers with Dean standing guard, alert to his surroundings.

"If you want, you can head back," he said to me, and I looked up a bit surprised. "We're on a hiking path right now. Follow it, and you'll reach the homes in ten or so minutes, and after that, it's a twenty minute walk back home."

"I think I'll stay because it's probably safer to stick together, you know," I replied, and looked at for the path that he implied was fairly obvious to spot, but all I saw was a mat of brown leaves and ash scattered across the ground with only faint marks of the packed dirt that formed the path.

"I know. I'll send your friend back with you," he replied. "Not everyone has the stomach to hunt."

"I mean, yeah, but I think it's something that my parents–" I was saying before I flinched a bit when he unholstered his gun, the barrel pointed at the ground with the safety on.

"I recognize the fear," he replied. "Back when I viewed it as a dangerous weapon instead of what it is: a tool and nothing more."

"You did?"

"But I learned," he replied. "Every weekend, I got better, more confident, more willing. But we haven't got the time now, so it's sink or swim."

"Yeah, I guess you're right, you know. I mean, I can use the slingshot–"

"Slingshot, gun, there's no difference," James said, holstering the gun back in the leather holder. "They both serve the same purpose. And it can be uncomfortable to think about."

I nodded. "I know what they're used for. I get that it's needed, you know, so, like, if people really need me to pick up a gun, I'll probably do it, just because it's good to contribute."

"It's now cowardly to not want to hold a gun. We're all built different," he responded. "But the worst thing that could happen is that you'll sink, and we haven't got time to deal with more problems."

As soon as he finished talking, I could hear Caspian and Dean chatting in the distance as they leisurely walked towards us. I expected them to be arguing since that's all that Mira and Dean do when they're assigned together for night watch shifts, but to be frank, I was surprised that they actually seemed to hit it off.

"It's too bad that we didn't find any," Caspian said to Dean.

"Wasn't expecting much anyways. The river is a lot better for catching small game," Dean replied to Caspian before looking at James and I. "You two ready to head down to the riverbank?"

"We should send those two back," James replied, pointing at Caspian and I.

"Naw, they need to toughen up. See the real world," he responded before pointing to Caspian. "And this guy here claims that he's able to hit a target with our slingshots from five yards away, so let's see if he's real or just full of sh–"

"Fine," James said with a sigh as he adjusted the black ski-mask covering his face. "I just thought we were heading down there alone."

"We'll be out here tomorrow," Dean responded and swung his arm around James' shoulders, whispering something into his ear before James shrugged him off as we began trudging towards the riverbank snares.

The riverbank ended up being more of the same: empty traps with untouched food, though we had to replace a couple of the traps since the bendy branches that are attached to the string ended up snapping. But other than that, it was a mostly unsuccessful event that left my shoes muddied and soggy as we criss-crossed over the shallow creek to check the traps lining the banks. While the water level here was a bit higher than our water collection location, it still looked like a series of puddles connected by tiny trickles of water.

The only moment of success came close to the end as ash began sprinkling down and we began hurrying up so that we could quickly head home. All of a sudden, we stopped as Caspian pointed into the distance at an object shrouded in gray. From what I could tell, it was round with two appendages pointing out from the top, quivering with the wind, looking obviously like a rabbit.

"We need to be quiet," Dean said. "Try to crouch down and walk carefully towards it."

"Do you–"

"No," he replied, cutting me off. "Let Caspian handle this one. Your slingshotting skills aren't good enough."

I shrugged and just followed their lead as we crept towards the rabbit. Dean motioned for Caspian and James to load and shoot the slingshot when we were around four or five yards away, further than our practice but we couldn't risk scaring the rabbit off. James handed out marbles instead of the stones that we had practiced with, probably because they'd fly more accurately.

After counting down, both of them fired, their marbles perfectly smacking into the rabbit as Dean rushed forwards presumably to catch it in case the slingshot didn't fully incapacitate it. But when he got there, he just stood and stared at it, so we walked over and saw what we had hit: a pinecone with a leaf pinned behind it.

"Goddammit!" Dean said, kicking the pinecone.

James sighed. "We'll have better luck tomorrow."

"We haven't caught anything. Nothing," he replied, pacing around. "We're the only ones who are useless right now–"

"It's alright," James said and then looked at Caspian and I. "C'mon, let's head back."

Dean and James ended up hanging behind for a bit longer as Caspian and I headed back to the community. I think he said that they needed to check a couple more traps, but I'm pretty sure it's because Dean was pretty upset and needed some space. I guess it's a bit weird that James stayed behind, but given that they're rooming together, they're probably pretty close.

"Today was a lot of fun," Caspian said, clearly smiling underneath his mask. "I mean, did you see how I hit the pinecone? Hit the bullseye perfectly."

"Yeah, today was alright," I replied before I realized that I had made the "alright" mistake again because for some reason, people always interpret it as "not good" (which was the truth but not what I meant), including Caspian.

"Okay. C'mon, what's up?" he replied. "You've been really quiet today."

"I don't know," I said. "I guess I'm still weirded out about the whole hunting thing. It's a lot different than fishing."

"Seems similar. Just one's on the land and the other's in the ocean."

"Not like that," I replied. "But, like, isn't it weird to just be around guns?"

"Not really. I know a couple of my teammates would drive up with their families to the gun range in the mountains to shoot for fun," he replied. "Obviously, no one here carried guns openly, but it was normal."

"Well, we're from different places," I replied. "I mean, here, basically no one owned a gun, at least not before the mass-panic buy that probably happened in the beginning. It just wasn't a thing here, the whole gun culture and stuff like that. Hell, my dad used to be the most anti-2A person ever."

"Really?" he said. "I didn't expect that."

"I mean, it's a pretty common belief here," I replied.

"We're from similar places though. I grew up only around ten to twenty miles away."

"Yeah, but it's different because most people here are immigrants," I responded, nearly regretting the words the moment that they came out from my mouth because I was worried that it'd make Caspian uncomfortable. "Where my mom and dad grew up, there really weren't any guns at all, so when they hear all the mass shootings in the news, it's like, I don't know. Like, you put all the work in raising kids only for them to die just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"But that might happen to us now, and I want you to be able to protect yourself," he said. "I don't want to make it easy for some psycho to stroll in and, you know..."

"I don't know..." I replied, my words trailing off. "I just don't like the finality of guns, you know. Like, does the clinic even have the capacity to treat people if they accidentally shoot themselves?"

"Only a basic protocol," he replied. "I can talk with Mom about it to see if we can create a more detailed game plan if it makes you feel better, but I haven't thought about it like that."

"That'd be nice."

"Still, I do think the benefits outweigh the risks here. You remember the bandits we saw?" he replied. "If you want, we can practice together to just get a hang of it. I mean, I think guns are pretty cool even if I've never held one in my hands. It could be fun too–"

"Ehh, I don't know about that."

"You know what? I'll make a deal with you. You come out to practice with me, and I'll bring out the flannel and jeans to dress up as a proper cowboy, with real life guns, to make up for missing Halloween," he said.

Normally, I'd totally take Caspian's deal. I guess it's because he's just, like, pretty charming, and I don't really want to disappoint him. But out of all the things that he chose to make this deal about, it had to be guns, and I guess this is the one thing that I draw a really firm line on. I just think that having everyone carry guns is too risky, and it's far too scary to begin normalizing everyday open-carry. So I chose to decline his offer.

"Look, I'm sure that'll be pretty funny–"

"Funny?" he replied. "I'm pretty sure I'll make a damn fine cowboy."

"Yeah, totally," I said, deadpanning even though he was completely right. "But I don't think this is the right thing for me."

"Don't worry about it," he replied, surprisingly alright with my response, and I sighed on the inside. "I get that this is something different from you. I mean, if I grew up where you did and then saw Grandpa's closet of hunting rifles, I'd be a little more than intimidated. Just know that, the offer still remains standing for when you're ready, though I can't promise that I won't bust out that cowboy outfit a bit early."

"Well, I'm looking forward to that," I said.

"You better," he said. "Wanna walk back to my house?"

"Yeah, sure," I replied.

When I was walking to his house, I noticed that Mira was walking towards us, and I waved to her, though I don't think that she noticed because she seemed a bit distracted. Caspian shouted out her name, and that appeared to break her out of her daze because she waved at us.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her as we met in front of his house, standing on the porch. "Do you need some medical help?"

"No, no. I'm doing great," she replied, glancing at me briefly, and I immediately knew what she was doing here. "Actually, I'm here to talk to your family about something that our family is planning for the community."

"Is it something fun?"

"Fun? Definitely," she replied. "We've already got a ton of ideas, and maybe you could contribute

"Well then, you don't need to tell me more. I'm already down for it," he replied.

Mira laughed. "Thanks. But I've got to get your parents on board too."

When we all walked inside his home, we saw Caspian's mom running around with a clipboard, seemingly busy, while his dad was in the kitchen, using the counter as some sort of workbench, tinkering with metal wire and what appeared to be the large metal straws that we'd use to drink boba out of. I had no idea what he was making (maybe it has to do something with power or the Weaver's water collection system, I'm not exactly sure), but Mira waved to him. "Hey, Mr. Cooper."

He looked up and set down his pliers. "Oh, hey Mira. And Neal."

I waved at him before Mira said, "If you could spare five or so minutes, I'd like to talk to you and your wife about something that my family is planning?"

"What are you guys planning?" Caspian's mom said, startling me a bit since I didn't realize that she was standing right behind us.

"Hey, Dr. Cooper," Mira said, and Caspian's mom's frown tilted into a small smile, which Mira probably took as a good sign. "So what we're thinking is throwing a Thanksgiving celebration for the community this upcoming Thursday to celebrate the holiday, and give all of ourselves a small break. I know that both of you guys have been working hard keeping the clinic running and panels working."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Caspian's dad said, his face lighting up, which caused Caspian to smile. "Just one question: Where are we going to get the food from?"

"We've repaired the net, so we're going to catch as much fish and shellfish as we can the day before Thanksgiving," Mira replied confidently. "The food won't last long since it's hard to preserve so much, which is why we're pairing it with a big feast, and we're not going to need to take much from the food pantry if that's a concern."

"What about food preparation?" Caspian's mom asked. "Seafood spoils easily, and I'm worried that the feast, where everyone is sharing food items, will lead to a mass food poisoning outbreak. We've only got so many beds."

"That's a great point. We'll move the net set-up to the day before Thanksgiving, and collect the fish the day after," Mira said through an uncertain smile as she dodged a bit of a bullet.

"Does anyone else support this?" Caspian's mom replied. "I don't want to end up in another situation where our two families are the only ones left on the outside. It's not a good look."

"I've already talked about this with the Xiaos and Johnsons, and they're completely for it. They love the idea," Mira responded. "The Weavers are almost certainly on board, but even without their support, if your family votes with ours, we'll have majority support for the council meeting tomorrow."

"Look, I'm sure you guys mean well, but I'm not sure about this," she replied.

"What's wrong with it?" Caspian's dad asked, chiming into the conversation. "It seems like their family has it all planned out."

"It just feels wasteful," she said. "I don't want us to have a premature celebration when we've still got a long way to go before we have a functioning community. Who knows if we're still going to have the drive to work hard after a full-day of celebration? It will be addictive."

"I get your concerns. I really do," Mira said, pausing and probably thinking about the best path forwards. I could already see the grand speech vs down-to-earth response dilemma forming in her mind. It would be so tempting to pitch a grand dream about how this event will be the turning point in our community, where we truly became one group. We'd be rebuilding civilization from the ashes and creating a new vision for the world, one that would be replicated by hundreds of communities scattered across the cities and suburbs around our state.

But, she didn't choose this path, saying, "But all we're organizing is a one-day community get-together, just a brief moment in the grand scheme of things. We all know that the food and fun and games won't last forever, but it can be a small reminder to people that things can get better. Maybe our community won't work in the long-run, but we'll at least get one good day out of it. Plus, aren't you sick of being hungry all of the time?"

"Hell yeah," Caspian said to Mira's mini-speech, which caused her to smile a bit, before he turned to his mom. "C'mon, Mom. It's only for one day, and it'll be good for all of us."

I could see that for just a brief moment, both Caspian and his mom's eyes darted to his dad, who was enthusiastically twisting the metal wire around the metal boba straws (Still have no clue what they're going to be used for). And after, his mom looked at Caspian, and I'm pretty sure that she noticed how happy he was, like genuinely so, which is why she said, "Alright, I'll vote in favor of it. But we better not be in the minority."

"Don't worry about that," Mira replied. "We're going to make it happen."

When we left the clinic after saying a brief goodbye and getting a quick reminder to schedule a doctor appointment soon, I turned to Mira. "That was great."

"Well, it definitely didn't feel amazing the whole time," she replied. "I felt my heart stop when she asked the question about food preparation. Why didn't I think about that beforehand because I never realized–"

"I mean, who cares about that type of stuff, you know," I responded. "We've got the support, right?"

"As long as the Shepards don't oppose it, we should be fine," she replied. "And I know that Mom and Dad don't have faith in the Shepards, but it's not like they're some villains who just want to sabotage the community. I've got more faith in them than that. I mean, they trained us with guns, which would make their lives a million times harder if they wanted to do it."

"Yeah, that makes sense," I replied.

"As long as we don't turn this into another power struggle, I know that it's going to work," she said, and I felt a bit guilty for lying by omission because Mom and May had planned this event as a way to wrestle power from the Shepards. "I mean, at least, we've got one hardcore supporter. It's too bad that Caspian isn't old enough to vote."

"Maybe he'll be able to sometime soon," I replied. "I'm pretty sure he's seventeen, though I probably should ask when his birthday is so we can figure out when he's eligible to vote."

"No. Don't do that," Mira said, and I was a bit surprised. "You should surprise him on his birthday with something special–"

"I think surprise parties are kinda weird though and pretty awkward," I replied. "And I think he'd probably want to spend his birthday with his family though because we really aren't really close enough to do stuff like that."

"Aren't close?" Mira commented with his eyebrows arched. "I always see you two together. You talk with him more than me–"

"I don't spend every waking moment with him," I said. "It's just that our schedules line up well, you know. Like, we get assigned a lot of the same tasks."

"And you think that's just a coincidence?"

"I mean it could be, yeah," I replied. "And I do talk with you, but it's that you've always got night watch business that keeps you busy. I mean, Grandpa and Grandma have taken over your fire watching duties full-time."

"Let's not switch topics here," Mira said. "You should invite him over for dinner, at least. I'm sure that spending all evening by himself with his parents has got to be painful. I mean, I'm so glad that I'm not an only sibling because even the thought of spending all evening with just Mom and Dad sounds exhausting."

"I don't know. It's kinda weird to invite people over for dinner, and all we'd serve is soup, which really isn't that exciting," I said.

"We could serve some fresh scallion with our soup to make it more interesting for him."

"That's not really what I was saying, you know?"

"I know," she replied. "But trust me, asking people to come over isn't weird. Life's too short to be worried about small stuff like that."

"Yeah, totally. I'll think about it."

After I brushed her off, I spent the rest of the evening prepping for the Thanksgiving feast by soaking some of the mung beans that we had saved as seeds since they probably won't be that useful until temperatures are significantly warmer. Because the boiling water was far too hot, I just ended up using the lightly filtered water that we had grabbed from the river to make sure that I didn't just prematurely kill the beans.

I also began soaking a lot more mustard and transferred the small batch that had sprouted into the cans and set them into the new greenhouse. Even though it was mostly empty, I treated it as if it were full and set out eight containers of boiling water, leaving us with barely any pots, something that I never thought we needed to scavenge for. Running two greenhouses is already exhausting, and I can't imagine adding a third one to the mix without some significant changes in the way that we choose to heat them.

While I was working, the conversation I had with Mira echoed in my mind. I'm pretty sure that Mira knows or at least suspects because otherwise, it doesn't make sense that she'd be pushing this hard for me to spend more intimate time with Caspian. It reminds me of what she said about regrets and the dreams we realize too late, and I wonder if she's doing this because she wants me to have a chance to experience what she had with Leon.

But as admirable as her attempts to play matchmaker are, she doesn't know what Caspian's going through, and frankly, I don't even fully know what he's going through, just bits and pieces from what he's told me. But all I can tell is that he seemed to be doing better today, and I don't want to do anything that'd disrupt the comfortable status quo that we have right now.

Sometimes, it's better to let those dreams turn into regrets.

November 20

"Your sister was certainly very convincing," Caspian said to me as we walked down to the stream to do our weekly water gathering. Because we had expanded the greenhouse, instead of spending half a day or so gathering water, we pretty much had to spend the entire day working, and I definitely wasn't excited.

"Your parents are going for it?" I responded, and he nodded. "I mean, that's, like, great. Mira's going to be so happy."

"I know," he replied. "It's why I put some extra work into making sure that Mom would vote for it because I know that Dad's completely into dreaming big now–"

"Are you talking about the straw thing your dad is making?" I asked. "Is that for some big project?"

"You'll see," Caspian said. "All I'll say is that if you're from New England, you'll enjoy it."

"My parents went there for college–"

"Then they'll be in for a pleasant surprise," he replied. "Trust me, it'll be a big help for the Thanksgiving feast. I think you'll like it too."

"Is it for some heating system to keep the house warm during the–"

"Dude, it's supposed to be a secret."

"Yeah, but, like, I can still guess."

"Alright Mr. I'm-So-Smart," he said, probably smirking under his mask. "Let's see if you'll be able to figure it out."

And what began was what could only be described as a great guessing war. My guesses started out rational: an addition to the rainwater filtration system that the Weavers had installed, micropipes for a hydroponic garden system, maybe a way to move hot water around more efficiently in the greenhouse for more even heating. Of course, none of my guesses matched with his "New England" hint, so then they began to get more absurd.

I then suggested that we'd be making blowing darts with the straws, like those Amazonian tribes in South America. I mean, I didn't know where we'd get the poison (or the darts for that matter), but maybe they had some poisonous frogs laying around. That was the most rational of my out-there guesses because I started just making unserious guesses: windchimes to create spooky music that'd scare off intruders, the opening of an apocalyptic boba store, honing beacons for aliens in UFOs, like the one on the poster of the clinic's wall, so that they could abduct us and bring us to a better world.

By the time that we got to the river, both of us were laughing as my guesses devolved into more silliness. But once we saw the creek, the boisterous atmosphere vanished. The water level had dropped again, and what remained was even muddier and murkier than before. We had to wade all the way into the center of the stream to be able to scoop water out with our buckets

"That's enough of that," he replied. "Oh my god, you and Gabe, so tenacious when it comes to these guessing games. I swear, whenever he did that, I remember once when I was trying to surprise him for his birthday, it annoyed the hell out of me."

I don't know why, but I got really flustered at that moment since I wasn't sure if I had pushed his boundaries and actually annoyed Caspian, like in a bad way, you know. I suppose I was overthinking because he was still laughing a bit while saying that, but for a moment, I thought that I had messed up badly by being a bit too open.

"But it's good that I'm not friends with quitters," he said, and I sighed with a smile. "This is the funniest entertainment I've had in a couple days."

"Ha ha," I responded a bit sarcastically, and he gave me a friendly punch that I very lightly returned.

We continued talking in brief intervals as the day wore on, our arms getting increasingly tired of carrying these buckets of muddy water. Even though we took frequent mini-breaks, taking two or three minutes off for every five minutes of carrying the buckets, my arms felt like jello, and it was honestly so tempting to drag the buckets down the sidewalks, the annoying sound of plastic scraping be damned. But I felt guilty for doing something that would damage one of our precious buckets, so we continued trudging up and down to the river.

"So what's the big plan for Thanksgiving?" Caspian asked sometime mid-afternoon, an hour or so after our lunch break, as we were nearing my house.

"To be honest, we're still figuring it out," I said. "But I think we're doing a hybrid between, like, a normal Thanksgiving feast and carnival kind of thing–"

"Wait, like one of those pop-up carnivals that's in every teen movie with the ferris wheel–"

"Yeah, like that, but, like, without the ferris wheel obviously," I said. "I don't really have many ideas for it to be honest because right now, it's mostly just, like, a, I guess, vibe, if that makes sense."

"Well, I've got a lot of ideas–"

At that moment, I guess I had an epiphany, a way to knock two birds out with one stone. When I looked back briefly, I saw May walking by herself, kicking a dried sweetgum barb with her shoe aimlessly, probably suffering from the loneliness that she showed me for just the briefest moment. So I decided to redirect Caspian to her.

"Wait, actually, I think it might be better to talk to May about it since she's the one that suggested the carnival idea and is probably in charge of that."

It also knocks out another stone, which is how she doesn't feel important, which is why she embarks on those dangerous scavenging missions that would get her into big trouble. Maybe if Caspian floods her with ideas, she'd focus her energy into this event and less into forcing me to come up with lies for Mom and Dad. It could open more doors for her to be more involved in creating community-bonding events and maybe be less cynical.

It was also clear that Caspian was excited to share his ideas, saying, "You mind if I–"

"Yeah, just go talk with May," I said, and seeing my house close by, I added, "I kinda need to use the restroom, so I'll catch up with you guys later."

"I can take your empty bucket for you and do this round," he said, holding out his hand. "Your knuckles are still bruised, so you should probably be resting anyways."

"Oh, thanks," I said, a bit surprised.

After I emptied the bucket, I handed it to him, our hand grazing ever so slightly, and he flashed a thumbs up before running to meet May. They ended up brainstorming ideas for the rest of the day, even when I came back, and I honestly didn't mind that. It was nice to see May actually happy for once, and it was obvious that Caspian was having lots of fun ping-ponging ideas off of her. I caught only a brief snippet of their conversation, but from what I could tell, it's going to be a wild carnival.

Unfortunately, we had to get the idea through city council first, and just before the meeting, Mom and Dad and Mira grouped up for the pre-game huddle as we prepared for what was going to be a brutal city council meeting. After reconfirming whose support we do have (Xiaos, Johnsons, Coopers, and possibly Weavers) and whose support we may not have (Dean and James along with the Shepards), Mom gave some instructions to Dad and Mira.

"I'll handle Mrs. Shepard," Mom said before pointing at Mira. "I need you to handle the rest of the families in case there's any doubt, which I'm sure will pop up with the Weavers–"

"We've got the Weavers on our side," Mira replied.

"We're just being careful," Dad responded. "We know the food pantry stunt was aimed at our family, so it's clear that they can't fully be trusted."

"Though I agree, that's not a concern at the moment," Mom said before pointing at Dad. "If the Shepards attempt to pull something unreasonable or significantly derail what we've got planned, I need you to stop them. They probably won't listen to me, but they'll listen to you."

Dad nodded, and everyone's roles were set as people began filing into our home and standing around the dining table. Much like previous council meetings, the initial items being discussed were just the boring things, dealing with scheduling and night watch patrol shifts and more mundane items. Once we finished up dealing with all those small items, the big battles began as Mom spoke up immediately.

"I know that many of you guys have heard of our plans for a Thanksgiving celebration at our place thanks to the effort of my eldest daughter, Mira," Mom said. "And I thought that it would be a good time to bring it up for a vote while we're all here."

"That sounds like a lovely idea, even if I'm a bit surprised since we haven't been contacted directly," Mrs. Shepard said, glancing at Mira. "But my husband and I have been planning our own surprise Thanksgiving feast for the community."

"Well, I haven't heard about it," Mom replied. "And I don't think many others in our community have either."

"I did say it was a 'surprise,'" Mrs. Shepard said, laughing a bit uncomfortably.

"It does feel like this announcement seems last minute," Dad said, stepping in to deliver the pushback. "We've already sorted out logistics and have much of the event planned out."

"Of course. I understand that it must've taken a long time to plan this event out," Mrs. Shepard said. "I just thought that it would be a good gesture for us to plan something special out for your family and friends since we still have to repay our gratitude for you guys extending a hand and assisting our group."

"There's no need for that," Dad responded. "We're hosting the Thanksgiving feast. It's non-negotiable."

"By non-negotiable, my husband means that we don't want to burden you with more work since we sincerely want to thank all of you guys," Mom added. "From the water collection to the nut pancakes to the car barricade, in just a few weeks we have been able to transform our area, and we couldn't have done it without all your help."

"Don't you guys just think it's wrong to be celebrating right now, of all moments?" Dean said suddenly, standing up. "I've got to be the realist here since it feels like we're all caught up in our dreams that we're not thinking."

"I get it, Dean, but now's actually the perfect time, especially for you and James," Mira replied. "I know you two haven't had the best luck with catching prey, but given that the weather's nice right now, I'm sure you guys will find something now rather than later. And this will be a great opportunity for us to truly see how much you guys have grown as hunters and trapsmen."

I think Mira's flattery worked because Dean sat down without much resistance, and just as Mrs. Shepard was about to make a comment, Caspian's mom jumped into the fray.

"Do you even have a plan for food preparation?" Caspian's mom asked the Shepards, and I was a bit surprised that she was sticking up for our family because yesterday, she seemed pretty skeptical. I guess Caspian must've actually done a good job convincing her. "I assume that it involves getting food from the pantry."

"We were actually thinking of making a scavenging trip to see what we can scrounge up–"

"But that's still a waste of non-perishable food items," she replied. "Their family is planning on setting up a net to gather fish and seafood, so we aren't even going to waste resources that would be better in the long-term."

"That's a great point, Cora. Thank you," Mom said. "Just think about this as a long overdue home-warming event to welcome our new neighbors. Trust me, we've got this all planned out."

"Alright," she said with a sigh, conceded her point after it was blatantly clear that she had lost. "Still, I feel terribly guilty that your family has to plan this event alone. Perhaps, there could be anything my husband and I could do to assist."

"Actually, I have an idea," Mr. Shepard said. "We can do a quick scavenging trip the day after tomorrow to find some games for the event, maybe gather some more supplies since I know you two are itching to expand the greenhouse again and of course, more food."

"Absolutely no–" Dad was about to say before being cut off by Mom immediately.

"That sounds great," Mom replied, and Dad shot her a dirty look, but I understood exactly what she was going for. There's not any particularly good reason to reject the Shepards' offer, and all that we'd achieve is making it seem obvious that the Thanksgiving feast is a power grab by our family to upstage the Shepards. It's better to let them have a small victory than blow out the face of our entire plan.

"I believe your husband had something to–" Mr. Shepard was saying before he was cut off by Dad.

"No, let's just get the vote done," Dad said. "Unless anyone has any concerns."

"We've got some logistical questions," Mrs. Shepard replied, and just as she was about to go onto a long speech sowing doubt in our ability to hold a proper Thanksgiving feast, probably because we didn't really celebrate Thanksgiving, Mira interrupted her.

"I understand that there are questions about logistics and planning, but I don't want us to lose our idea under a flood of concerns and skepticism. If we just keep going back and forth, tearing down each others' ideas because we don't have all the answers, then we won't get anything. We just will not," Mira said. "I wanted to do this Thanksgiving feast to honor the love of my life, my husband, Leon."

Mom and Dad's brows furrowed while a small smirk formed on May's face, as Mira continued her emotional plea, saying, "If things were normal, we'd be at his family's home, cutting open a turkey and stuffing our faces with stuffing, but now, I know I'm never going to have that again. I just want to create the perfect Thanksgiving feast so that, if there's the slightest chance that he appears at my door, he'd be proud of what we've managed to accomplish, bringing together a group of people together to live a life that's better than scrounging for crumbs. That there's room for fun and joy no matter how difficult it seems to imagine."

I think there were tears in Mira's eyes and her voice was cracking a little. The only person in the room that wasn't looking slightly uncomfortable (as most people do when someone's about to cry) or a bit teary-eyed was May, and she almost seemed gleeful, even as she was trying to hide her smile. Maybe she thinks that Mira is bringing up Leon for emotional manipulation and is taking notes, but that line of thinking is far too cynical for me.

"I know you've got your alternative celebration, but I, we, just want an opportunity to make something special," Mira said. "We've thought a lot about it, and what we've imagined is something that I'd be proud to dedicate in his memory."

I think we managed to guilt the Shepards out of raising more concerns, even if it's not exactly what Mira was planning on doing, because Mrs. Shepard said, "I'm sure we can sort that out at a later time. I'm fully in support of your Thanksgiving plans."

Then the voting quickly commenced with pretty much everyone Mira had serious dialogue with being fully supportive with the only two holdouts being Dean and James with James looking at Dean and Dean glancing at the Shepards. I think he was doing this for guidance because I noticed Mr. Shepard subtly nodded in their direction, and both of them promptly voted in favor.

"I'm glad that our second-ever major council decision was unanimous," Mom said.

"I concur. It's clear that what we've established is working," Mrs. Shepard added much to Mom's annoyance since she was being upstaged. "Now, I'll be collecting any requests for our scavenging trip so make sure to submit them to us by tomorrow. I believe this is all for our meeting."

"We hope to see you all here on Thursday," Mom said, and afterwards, as everyone began to disperse, I could just feel this bit of infectious hope that was bubbling from the hushed conversations and small laughs as people mingled for a bit before leaving.

Once everyone had left, all of us sighed from relief, our plan finally in motion as we passed the biggest hurdle. I even saw Mom let out a rare smile, and I could tell that even May was excited, considering the fact that she stayed up fairly late and actually helped out a bit with checking on the boiling pots, two things she never did. At that moment, I remembered the Shepards' scavenging trip. Since everyone was asleep, I decided to confront her about it.

"Please don't tell me that you're going on the Shepards' impromptu scavenging trip."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, obviously pretending not to know what I was talking about, but I was just too annoyed and worried to entertain this farce.

"The council meeting, the Shepards' whole–"

"Yeah, I know obviously," she replied a bit loudly before dropping her voice down to a flushed whisper. "You could speak a bit quieter, you know?"

"Well, are you going?"

"Obviously, not," May replied. "You think I'm dumb or something? You obviously won't have any time to come up with an excuse, and even then, Mom and Dad are obviously going to be super suspicious if I just magically disappear the second that they announce a scavenging trip."

"Well, good then..."

"I mean, it really isn't good that they're scavenging with even less people because they'll get less supplies and food and we'll all starve and die, but whatever. It's not my problem right now," she said. "I've got more important things to plan."

"Do you have a plan?"

"Umm, obviously," she replied. "I've already figured out the whole cliche teen-movie carnival aesthetic and where everything will go. I don't know why you're so skeptical. Even though I was a freshman, I literally had to plan out all the softball team-bonding events since everyone else was so lazy."

"That's a bit mean–"

"But it's literally true. And anyways, don't get your hopes up. It's not like I'm giving up scavenging forever because that would be dumb and we'd all literally starve to death, but right now, I'm busy actually doing stuff that's important and, like, matters. So I'm going to be bossing you around for two days because you obviously have to help me."

"I think I'm assigned to help the Xiaos tomorrow though–"

"One and a half days then," she said. "We've got literally so much stuff to do if we're actually going to make this memorable and not some lame event that'll probably cause everyone to want to murder us. And I'd prefer not to die."

"No one's going to murder us if it's boring."

"I mean, I would," she replied. "Imagine if the last party you'll ever go to is some sad, depressing event. Luckily, Caspian actually had some good ideas."

"Like what?"

"God it's annoying that we share a friend. You literally don't need to know everything that Caspian and I are doing," she replied. "Let's just say that we've got tons of ideas for the best last holiday party."

"We've still got Christmas though..."

"Let's be honest, as much as I prefer to make it to Christmas, at this rate, I doubt that it'll happen," she responded. "No offense, but the greenhouse, as cool as it is, is still way too small to actually feed us forever, and repairing the net takes way too long to be actually useful. I'm hoping that when people eat food and realize that being hungry all the time isn't normal that people will actually, you know, go out and get more food."

"I think it's still important to build up the greenhouses though because one day, we'll eventually run out of supplies to scavenge."

"Obviously, I know that the fun won't last," she replied. "But right now, we've literally got to focus on the short-term, like making sure that we don't get murdered before the greenhouse system gets running."

I mean, I did feel a bit defensive when she said that. The mustard sprouts are actually doing fairly well even without the supplemental light, which we'll start turning on in December when all of the batches will begin to directly benefit from it. I can see the oldest batch that we planted, the first group that we had planted in the greenhouse, has stems that were inching closer to a foot high.

The peas are also doing well, and I noticed that small tendrils were forming and grasping the support structures that we had stuck in. The spinach plants are doing great, a thick clump of dark-green leaves that vaguely resembled basil forming close to the ground, while the frilly lettuce leaves are beginning to wrap into the core. The root vegetables, like the carrots and potatoes, seem like they're doing decent, though you wouldn't know until you pulled them out. The scallion and onion are doing great though, the stalks standing firm and tall, and so far, we haven't had any disease or rotting sweep through yet.

I mean, all things considered, it's frankly a miracle that the greenhouse is running this smoothly. Yes, plant growth is stunted but at least we haven't lost any major crops so far. But having the greenhouse up and running is different from being able to tell everyone that we've got their food needs fully covered.

And that's where she's right. And maybe she's right to go scavenging. I just wish that Mom and Dad thought that she was old enough to make her own decisions.

November 21

In the morning, I woke up relatively early to deliver a couple of stacks of firewood to the Xiaos along with a couple of old childrens' books that I had picked out from my bookshelf. A couple of illustrated ones were in Chinese, probably a gift from Grandma and Grandpa or the part of my family living in Taiwan, though I couldn't really read them despite the language used being fairly elementary.

I also gave them the oldest book that I owned, filled with illustrations of various fruits and vegetables that I'm pretty sure I got in preschool. I'm not sure how relevant it'll be considering the predicament that we're in, but maybe it'll give a bit of hope to baby Adrian and his family, something that we're working towards with our greenhouses.

"Thank you for the books. They're lovely," Mrs. Xiao said, placing them onto a bare bookshelf. "This was a really thoughtful idea."

"Thanks, but it really wasn't my idea," I replied as I moved firewood into her garage. "Caspian and your husband proposed it, and I guess I had a bunch of extra books, so yeah..."

"Still, it's nice that you remembered," she responded. "I wanted to talk about something. I'd like to contribute to the Thanksgiving feast."

I guess I wasn't really sure what to say because, I mean, I don't know if this is me adopting these overly macho ideas, but I didn't really want to burden her with more work. I mean, caring for a baby, in this environment, is already a lot of work, and it's even more difficult given that Mr. Xiao can't spend much time helping out since he's busy building fortifications. It just felt a bit wrong.

"I don't–"

"Please don't bring Adrian into the conversation," she said, pretty much reading my mind. "Trust me, whatever you give me, I'll be able to handle it."

To be honest, I wasn't in much of a position to question her. Plus, I'd imagine that having to care for a baby for much of the day (and probably night, given how much manual labor Mr. Xiao has to perform) can get exhausting in a boring kind of way.

"I mean, my mom is in charge of the Thanksgiving feast and food related items if you want to make something," I said. "I guess there's also my sister's part, though I'm not too sure how interested you'll be in it. It's, like, carnival-slash-amusement park themed, like the ones in all the teen movies in the fall–"

"Actually, I've got something to contribute to your sister's carnival," she replied, her eyes lighting up. "Do you have any colored pencils?"

"Yeah, we've got a bunch," I replied. "What for?"

"Do you know the caricature portraits at amusement parks?" she asked, and I nodded. "When I was your age, I worked in the amusement park a dozen or so miles away as one of those sketch artists. It was either that or help running the game booths, and there was no chance in hell that I'd waste my summer not doing the one thing that I was good at."

"That's pretty cool," I said. "Must've been a lot of work, I'd imagine, like having to drive pretty far to get there and sit all day in the sun."

"Not really actually," she replied. "It could be a bit boring at times, stressful, especially during the peak of summer, but I loved working there, except for the trash-cleaning duties that the junior members of the crew were always assigned to since the manager of the park was a cheapskate. But, hey, at least we got free Dippin' Dots."

"Yeah, I guess that's an upside," I responded. "I wonder what the park looks like now. Do you think it was close enough to the ocean to be caught in the tidal zone?"

"I don't believe so," she replied, and Adrian started crying so she picked him up from the crib and began rocking him. "But I'd imagine that it'd look like everything outside of this community, desolate and empty. Someday, I wish I could take Adrian to see it, maybe when he's older and could understand what used to be there."

She's probably right about the park. The roller coaster carts would be clinging onto the dilapidated tracks, bent and partially collapsed from the earthquakes and covered in a blanket of ash. The water park, the place where May and Mira and I spent the most time in, would probably be filled with murky water filled with floating strands of dead algae. It'd be like those photos of Pripyat after Chernobyl with the iconic ferris wheel with chipped paint and rusted beans frozen in time.

I wonder what Adrian would think when he sees the amusement park. I mean, even if we never see another blue sky again (though it's probably unlikely), at least, that's something easy to imagine. But an amusement park. Like, how would you even explain the concept of a roller coaster, let alone have them be able to imagine sweaty, packed crowds or ice-cream and cotton candy or the idea of going to a place just to have fun and hang out. I'd imagine he might get a bit bitter, staring at these structures and wondering what he missed out.

"That's really nice," I said, ignoring the concerns filling my mind. "Maybe if our community makes it to summer, we could travel out there, see if there's anything worth checking out."

"Trust me, I don't think we'd find much. It's close to downtown and would've been looted already," Mrs. Xiao said. "The only thing of worth there is the group photo of the entire team the summer I worked there."

"Did you stay in touch with the people there?"

"Only a few. Never got to know most of them since the park is so big," she replied. "Haven't heard much from the ones that still live here since everything started. Maybe they'll be able to find their way here."

"Yeah, maybe if we're able to build-up more to make a mark."

"Actually, thinking about it, someone might actually be at the amusement park," she responded. "I remember that this one girl I worked with–Ashley, Ashleigh, I'm not too sure–who loved working there, so much so that I'm sure that she'd probably be down there manning the booths right now."

"Wait, is she actually still working there even after high school?"

"I don't know. I wish that I had gotten her MySpace or Facebook then to see if she actually meant it," she replied. "You have any friends that you wished you could check up on?"

"I mean, yeah. One," I replied. "But we didn't use social media all that much. But I guess I wished we did since when the internet comes back, it'd be nice to see how he's doing."

"It's hard to lose friends and never learn what happened," Mrs. Xiao said. "Losing touch with each other: that's the greatest tragedy of all that's happening."

Thinking about it, I think that she's right. I mean, we took so much for granted: food being delivered to our stores to be bought, water and waste being filtered through the water treatment plants, electricity running through the power lines, knowing that whoever you're looking for is just one call away, even when they're a thousand miles from you. All of that is dependent on communication and playing a part to support the foundations of society.

Now, we've lost all of that, some people to starvation and the natural disasters, others to bandits and lawlessness, and most just to the distance. It's hard to not wish that I could just pick up my phone and call Charles to come back because we're finally building something that could help his family stay. So that we wouldn't lose touch with each other.

But I think I've accepted that whatever that is, it's just a fantasy to be lightly entertained, like my childhood dreams of becoming a Pokemon trainer. He's almost certainly not coming back, no matter how selfishly I've wished for it at times. And I guess every day, I try to be more alright with it because I think I'm forming something new with Caspian, which is helping make things easier.

Still, the unanswered questions buried in the letter still haunt me.

As I was walking back home after getting the firewood sorted, I heard someone call my name and saw Mr. Cooper lightly jogging behind me. When he reached me, it's pretty obvious that he was out of breath, so we just stood around awkwardly until he was able to get himself composed enough to speak.

"Sorry about stopping you," he said between breaths, though it was obvious that he was fairly excited about something. "But I've got some information that I'd like you to pass to your parents about something important that we'll need your family's help for."

"Uh, sure," I said. "But I mean both my parents are home, and I don't think they're too busy, so, like, I can take you to them directly if that makes it easier because I guess it sounds important."

"That sounds like a better plan," he replied as we began walking to my house, the brief peace that I had being by myself disrupted by a not unwelcome interruption. "You got any advice for me to get your parents on board?"

"Uh, I'm not too sure," I replied. "I guess just have something reasonable, and, like, they'll probably agree to it. Sorry, if that isn't very helpful, but, like–"

"That's alright," he said. "It's been the first time in ages where I've created something that I'm proud of. Not saying the solar panels were a disappointment–it's something extremely important–but it was just business as usual, not like this."

"Wait, is it the metal straw thing?" I asked. "Caspian told me about it, but he's not telling me what it's for."

"He did?"

"Yeah," I replied, and even though I couldn't see his mouth, I could just tell that Caspian's dad was beaming and seemed happy with himself, so I guess I exaggerated the conversation that Caspian and I had a bit. "He seemed really proud of it and made me guess what it's for, and honestly, I have zero clue."

"What were you thinking?"

"Uh, probably something to do with the Weavers' water collection system, like a mini-pipe to carry the heated water," I said. "Yeah, I have no idea why you'd need our help with something like that."

"You're somewhat close," Caspian's dad. "But I ought to honor my son's wishes and keep it a surprise."

"Sure, yeah," I said. "That'd probably make Caspian happy."

"Seems like Caspian's doing better," he said, suddenly changing the topic.

"Doing better?" I asked, feigning ignorance since I wanted to protect Caspian's privacy.

"I must be mistaken because he seemed upset about something these last few days, but I suppose it's just me over worrying," he replied. "I'm just happy that he's doing the things that he loves again. When I asked about playing volleyball with him, well, he did the same thing to me as I did to my parents when I was his age when I was brushing things off."

"I think he's just worried that you might get hurt. Like, you know, it's volleyball, and, like..." I said, fumbling with my words because I wasn't sure how explicit I should I make my point that Caspian's probably worried that volleyball might cause his dad to spiral into depression, which is why he's always hiding his real emotions.

"That's a lot of words to call me an old man," his dad said with a laugh, completely missing my point (to be fair, it was a fairly reasonable misinterpretation since I bungled the execution). "It's alright. I'm too old for that kind of stuff. Sports isn't my thing anymore..."

He then looked up as we passed the Weavers and Johnsons, who were examining trees and duct-taping some sort of label on them and waved at them. "I'm going to invite them over. They might be able to explain science to your parents better."

I was about to tell him that it wasn't a good idea because my parents don't trust the Weavers at all, especially after the food pantry suggestion, and that if the idea was coming from our closest ally, they'd probably be much more receptive. But I didn't get my words out fast enough, and suddenly, both of the Weavers and Johnsons were joining us as we walked to my house. When we got home, I told them to wait outside so that I could call Mom and Dad over to listen to their (probably) wacky plan.

"Mom, Dad," I shouted.

"What?" Mom asked, arriving quickly to the front door, carrying a soapy towel in her hand. "Why are you shouting? Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing," I said. "I think Caspian's dad has an idea that he needs our help with. It seems pretty important."

"This was the emergency?" Dad asked, approaching from up behind Mom. "I thought Mira had gotten hurt on her gun patrol or–"

"Well, it's none of that, so can you guys just go to the front door and just talk with his dad."

"Alright," Mom replied, her body relaxing a bit. "Just don't scare us like that next time."

But when she opened the door, I could see that her body tensed back up again as Dad stood warily behind her, eying the crowd that had formed in front of our front door. I guess I was right that the large crowd would cause Mom and Dad to panic, though it was probably my fault that I implied that it was only Caspian's dad coming to our house.

"Hello, Tim," Mom said before looking around at the Weavers and Johnsons. "And all of you guys."

"Apologies for the crowd," he said, a bit embarrassed by the entourage and realizing that it was not the best idea. "It's just that we've been working on a project, and I thought I'd bring them along to explain what we're trying to do."

"It's unfortunate we haven't been blessed with maple, but now's the perfect time to be tapping the sycamore and birch trees," Mr. Johnson said. "We've been checking the temperature, and it's been dropping below freezing every night and rising above it throughout the day–"

"What does that mean?" Dad asked.

"We need this freeze-thaw cycle to force the tree to send sap upwards, which we will be able to collect," Mrs. Johnson replied. "It won't last forever though. Once temperatures dip below freezing all day, the sap will remain permanently frozen until our Creator blesses us with a little taste of spring. But with the cycle coinciding with holiday festivities, it's as if the universe is giving us a gift, and we'd be fools to reject it."

"That sounds interesting," Mom said. "We'd love to help out."

"What we'd need to borrow is some electricity from the battery storage system," Caspian's dad said. "Hand-drills will take too long to operate and too difficult to scale up, and we'd have to scavenge to find one, which may take a long time. It's easier to use a power drill and be able to set up fifteen or so taps with the makeshift spiles that I've made. We might be able to get maybe a quart or so of syrup by Thanksgiving the earlier we get these set-up."

"Sounds like a plan," Mom said after a brief lull in the conversation, leaving both Dad and I completely shocked because normally, both of them hem and haw after a lot of deliberation before making a decision last-minute. "You can come over tomorrow morning and charge the power drill. I assume you don't have to borrow one–"

"We've got one," Mr. Weaver said, and although his point was taken, Mom didn't acknowledge him, probably because she's still annoyed about the food pantry stunt pulled on us last-minute.

"Wait a sec," Dad said, stepping in, much to the disappointment of the entire group. "We'll need to think about it first. What you're proposing requires us to sacrifice–"

"Well, the journey to get the panels was a joint expedition–" Caspian's dad was saying before Dad cut him off.

"Our family paid for it," Dad replied. "And the power is being taken from our greenhouse and our future. So we'll get back to you guys tomorrow like my wife said."

Caspian's dad sighed, probably way too tired to fight. "Just let us know as soon as possible, please."

After a terse but cordial goodbye, Mom closed the door and slammed the door lock before whirling around to confront Dad. "What was that for?

"Why did you immediately agree instead of actually thinking about it?" Dad shot back at the same time.

"Because it seems like a good plan, and we'll need as many reliable allies as we can get. That's why we keep delivering firewood to the Xiaos and assign Neal to forage with the Johnsons and loop Tim and Cora into all of our plans," Mom replied. "We need to be the ones in the leadership position, the ones being generous so that people will listen to us instead of the Shepards since who knows what their real intentions are."

"Maybe we shouldn't try to occupy that position," Dad said. "What's the use in giving out everything that we have if the community fails. At least, if we hold back just a little, give them an alternative that doesn't require using the little power we generated, then we'll at least have something if everything falls apart instead of nothing."

"If things fall apart, people will target the people who they think have something," Mom replied. "Don't you understand? There's no going back to the way it used to be. We took a risk, and now we've got to deal with the consequences."

"I get it, but we're siphoning power from the greenhouse, our future," Dad said. "And if it fails, we'd be wasting energy. Don't you remember when we went to the maple farm when we were in college? It took gallons of maple sap to make a little syrup, so who knows how many gallons it'll take to make a bit of syrup with these non-maple trees. I'm worried that it'll be a waste of time–"

"It won't be a waste of time," Mom responded. "If it succeeds, we'd make our Thanksgiving celebration even better. If it fails, then it'll show the community that we'd be willing to make a sacrifice."

"It's just that other people's plans shouldn't interfere with ours..."

I guess at that moment, I thought about what May had said yesterday about the greenhouse. No matter how much I want to deny it, she's right that it's not going to be enough, not even close to enough if we're to make it long-term once the supply of cans and seafood dries up. We'll eventually have to scale up and introduce greenhouses to other peoples' backyard because our strategy of dividing by niche will fail long-term.

Having a week less of supplemental light seems minute compared to being able to build trust amongst our community members, and more importantly, secure an alternative supply of food. Is the tree sap going to be a long-term solution? Of course not, and if the sun never returns, the trees will eventually die out. But she was right in that we have to consider short-term solutions, so I decided to speak up.

"I think we should do it," I said, Mom and Dad both looking at me with surprise. "I guess the greenhouse is my responsibility since I'm the one that works on it the most, and I think that, yeah, it sucks that we'll lose power for the greenhouse lights, especially now, but I think that it'll be more valuable to get the syrup now than worry about any adverse effects on the plants that might happen in the future."

"Son, I'm not sure–"

"I mean, like, you guys said that you wanted me to take more responsibility with the whole toxic masculinity 'becoming a man' thing, so that's what I'm doing now," I responded. "Let's just do the whole syrup plan, you know. I'm pretty sure it's the right choice for a week's worth of lights."

Oddly enough, Mom and Dad both nodded without much pushback. Maybe it's because I used their words against them or maybe it's because they're proud or something or maybe it's just because Dad knows that Mom was right but didn't want to admit it to her face. But either way, tomorrow morning, we're going to begin to get syrup, and I, for one, am excited to have something that I can dip my acorn pancakes into whenever the Johnsons find another oak grove.

After that, I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening getting bossed by May as we began preparations for the Thanksgiving feast, specifically decorations. I was responsible for drawing outlines of maple and sweetgum leaves onto vibrant red, orange, and yellow pieces of construction paper while Grandma and Grandpa cut and stacked them. Because we didn't want to waste any precious resources, instead of taping them to the wall, we strung up lines of twine that criss-crossed the living room and used paper clips to fasten the leaves to the string. It ended up looking a lot cooler than the original plan, the vivid leaves looking like they're falling from the ceiling.

After that, we split into a bunch of different groups as Mira and Mom and Dad began joining into the mix. I primarily was involved in alternating between tracing leaves and making origami blow-up pumpkins and sketching spooky faces on them (I know it's the wrong holiday, but I have to make up for missing Halloween) while Mira worked on cutting out outlines of sunflowers and adding mini-inspirational quotes in them. May, on the other hand, with the permission of Mom and Dad to use some of the glue, was busy gluing large pieces of topaz and amber colored glitter to the leaves and lines of string, causing them to sparkle in the light.

While we were working, Mom and Dad were rummaging through the mess of items that we onced stored in the garage, trying to find something that we could use for the celebration. There were a couple of old candle holders and fancy glass cups that we could place close to the fire so that they would shimmer as the flames flickered. They also brought out some vases and fake flowers and even brought out an ornate paper swan or turkey made from interlocking pieces of folded paper that we got from a flea market when I was seven or so.

They also attempted to mix-and-match holidays by bringing out Christmas ornaments, but May vetoed the idea. She was right, and even though she said that they would ruin the aesthetics of Thanksgiving, I think she knew that attempting to celebrate Christmas so early would imply that we aren't making it to Christmas. There's no way that we're going to risk sending that message.

We also sent the list to the Shepards for what we needed scavenged for our Thanksgiving celebration. Obviously, we put the essentials: food, greenhouse materials, fertilizers and seeds first, even though we won't be getting any of those. After that though, we put tons of carnival related items that we could fashion into games: rings, hoops, bowling bins, pucks, small and medium sized balls and a whole bunch of other items, along with board games in general for the adults. Handing it to the Shepards was a bit tense but once Mom and Dad returned, the holiday atmosphere returned.

Outside of those brief moments, this afternoon was one of those rare times that didn't feel like we were dealing with the end of the world. Mira was goofing around, not all serious and tensed up like she is when she's patrolling or pitching ideas for building the community. Grandma and Grandpa had something else to do outside of the monotony of washing clothes and boiling water. Mom and Dad were actually relaxed and deliberately annoying May by bringing out all kinds of ugly goodbye gifts that they had received when they decided to move to the West Coast.

It almost felt like I had been transported to another Earth, one where Mom and Dad never decided to move across America and the Mooncrash never happened. Just a family celebrating the days leading up to Thanksgiving as the first snow falls outside of our windows.

November 22

Today was just tiring for all of us. Some parts were a fun, chaotic mess and other parts were just the type of mess that leaves you emotionally drained and tired.

The morning was complete chaos, May scrambling to glue together pieces of construction paper, acting as signs for the various games that we had while I added labels with black markers. Because Mira had nothing much to contribute, she got assigned to greenhouse warming duty and the exhausting job of carrying pots around.

Caspian and his dad also came over fairly early in the morning, his knocks nearly drowned out by May yelling at all of us to work faster and the movement of furniture as Mom and Dad began reorganizing the living room to create more space for activity stations. Luckily, Mom heard his soft knocks in a brief moment of silence and went to the door to greet him.

"Good morning," he said after Mom said the same to him. "So I know that I was a bit frustrated yesterday and want to apologize–"

"No need to apologize," Mom replied. "We appreciate what your family has done for us, and of course, we'll let you charge the power drill with the battery power."

"Thank you," Caspian's dad said as Dad arrived to take him to the garage.

"Let's hope that plan of yours works."

"I'm fairly confident that it will," Caspian's dad responded to Dad as they disappeared into the garage.

"Wow, your place looks fire," Caspian said as I turned around to face him because I had gotten distracted by his dad and Mom's conversation. "All these hanging leaves, the decorations. Damn, you never told me your family was so hardcore when it comes to Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, a lot of it was May's idea," I replied. "Are you staying for today?"

He nodded. "I've got some free time since Mom has no checkups today, and I just wanted to come over here and see how I can help. Don't want you doing this all by yourself."

"Thanks," I said. "Yeah, are you any good with art or calligraphy because I'm trying–"

"Nope. Not an artist unfortunately. I've got the messiest handwriting in the world," he replied with a bashful smile. "But if you need me to lift anything or smack something with a slingshot, then I'm your man."

"Smack something with a slingshot?" I looked at him a bit amused.

"C'mon, don't expose me for not being much of an artist," he replied with a bit of a laugh. "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean that I'm automatically the next Da Vinci."

"But slingshotting?"

"Alright, you got me," he said, mock surrendering. "I wanted to brag a little, but, you can't deny it, I'm the king of slingshotting."

"Isn't James better?"

"Prince then," he responded, and he could see that I was shaking my head. "But you know what? Given that I've done so well with the slingshot, I think I've got what it takes to become the king of darts tomorrow–you guys have a darts board, right?"

"No, but we did ask the Shepards for one," I replied. "And I don't know about the darts thing..."

"Is that a challenge?" he said, wiggling his eyebrows, awfully reminiscent of when he challenged me to slingshotting a couple of days.

"Definitely not," I said. "The only darts that I was good at were darts on the iphone, and that's because both May and Mira are really bad at it."

"Is that bragging I hear?" Caspian replied, teasing me and making me blush a little. Thankfully, we were close to the fire, so both of our cheeks were already flushed from the heat. "Well, we'll see who's the real king tomorrow."

"That's if we even get the board," I said and was about to sit back down on the ground to continue drawing and filling in block letters for the signs when Caspian spoke up.

"Hey, I didn't get to mention it, but I just wanted to thank your family for going along with Dad's plan," he said. "I know that it required you to sacrifice the lighting for the greenhouse–"

"Don't worry about it," I said. "My dad was kinda skeptical, but I guess I just told him that it was worth the sacrifice since we've still got to wait for the greenhouse to really get productive. And we're also returning the favor since your family stood by ours to make this Thanksgiving feast happen."

"Just thanks again. It really means a lot to Dad. It'll really help him."

"Yeah, no problem. Whatever helps," I responded, and then he outstretched his arms.

"C'mon, bring on it," he said, presumably referring to a bro-hug, which I've basically never done because that's not what my friendship with Charles looked like, so I reluctantly complied. It was a bit awkward since our thick jackets were crinkling against each other, making an obnoxious noise, but even then, I felt my heart race a bit since his face was so close to mine.

Once I was freed from the hug, I picked up from where we were before both of us got distracted. "My parents are moving furniture around and–"

"Yep. I'm on it once your parents return," he said. "Unless you urgently need me."

"I'll probably get yelled at by May if I don't get the block letters filled in."

"I can help you if–"

"Nah, trust me, my parents will need a lot of help," I said. "You probably won't even be able to throw darts tomorrow because your arms will be so sore."

"Oh, so you're accepting the challenge?" he replied. "Well, we'll see about that tomorrow."

Caspian spent the rest of the morning dragging the mattresses into the board game corner, and dragging the couches, which were originally on the sides of the rooms, in front of the fire so that people could chat comfortably. By the time that I was called to eat a meal of soup for lunch, I had finished penciling the outlines for the block letters for all the planned games, like ring toss and bowling, that we were waiting on the Shepards to deliver.

Right after lunch, for some reason, Mom decided that it was time to put up the nets, which was definitely earlier than we normally would go. I guess she must've been nervous and wanted to just get the net set up as soon as possible, so we worked together to pack the net and all the other supplies we needed into the wagon before all leaving together.

Just as we were leaving, Dad decided to pop out of the house. "Wait up. I'm coming."

"Are you sure?" Mom asked, but Dad ignored her and began walking in front of the pack.

We wheeled out the wagon holding the ladder and net, delicately folded up, and began walking down to the tidal zone. On the way there, we were joined by Caspian's mom as we spotted his dad working with the Johnsons and Weavers as they were drilling holes in the giant sycamore trees lining the sidewalks. Already, despite the fact that the spile and bucket were covered in plastic wrap to prevent ash contamination, I noticed that a lightly orange tinted sap was slowly dripping into the container. It's clear that the investment we made is going to pay off.

When we reached the boundary between dry land and the tidal zone, the tattered caution tape poking out from piles of rotting seaweed, Mom gave Dad a weird look. Actually, we all gave him a weird look as he hopped over the seaweed and helped Caspian lift the wagon over the decaying kelp. He just appeared so nonchalant that I wasn't sure if it was another act or if he had been magically cured. Given what happened, I wished that the latter was true.

Because we had gone about an hour or so earlier than the previous time that we had set up the net, the asphalt underneath our feet was dark and soaked with visible puddles and shallow pools of water everywhere. Not to mention the rotting seaweed that was scattered all across the once perfectly manicured lawns and strung up on balconies and collapsed walls. The smell was overwhelming, much more so last time and when Charles and I went to the beach.

It could be just the fact that we're leaving a bit earlier than usual so the ocean was relatively close by, not retreated out half a mile or more into the sea during the peak of low tide. But as nice as that explanation would be, it's obvious what's truly happening. The lack of sunlight is even killing the hardy kelp forests surrounding our coastline, and unless a miracle happens, this slow decline is only going to accelerate as time passes. Without the kelp and subsequently, plankton, whatever ecosystem out there will collapse and the oceans will truly be dead.

Still, I think that's a far too pessimistic take because these sea plants are rooted, like, a hundred or so feet below the surface of the ocean, where light barely filters through. Maybe the ones in the deep ocean will probably be dead since there'll be no sunlight that reaches the ocean floor, but the ones in the shallow waters could survive even with lower sunlight.

All of this has got me seriously thinking about the possibility of growing seaweed. I'm not too sure what the ideal conditions for seaweed look like other than the fact that the water needs to be salty and nutrient rich, but I'm sure we could figure it out. There will probably be a lot of challenges: gathering fresh seaweed, figuring out a suitable place to grow it (no houses in the immediate community have swimming pools but a couple of houses closer to the ocean probably do), and just the actual process since no one I know has any experience doing this. Maybe the Johnsons do, but I'm not sure about running that idea past them without talking with Mom and Dad first.

Although I was pretty absorbed in thinking about the seaweed, I noticed that Dad wasn't looking good. It was not the same nauseous grimace that May was making as she complained about the sulfurous odor, but it was the look of fear. His face was pale and his hands were clammy as he constantly stopped pulling the wagon to wipe the sweat off his hand. Mom was staring at him the whole time, and even though the rest of us didn't really comment anything, the fear was so apparent that I even began feeling anxious.

With every step closer, Dad began looking worse, and I just wanted to tell him to stop because I was getting more jittery since I knew that something bad was going to happen. It's like a blood-red sunset before the storm or the electricity in the air before the dark clouds begin rolling in. I suppose the worst part of all this was the anticipation, the silent ticking alarm just waiting to erupt without warning.

All of this came to a head when we began hearing the cars, the steel husks screeching and grinding against each other and asphalt, their shrieks even louder than the crashing of the waves. I suppose we've never really heard this since we've always gone down to the beach at the peak of low-tide, where the ocean had retreated far back, leaving behind the dilapidated cars scattered on the streets.

But at that moment, the tides must've still been near some of the homes, even if they were far from us. And it was that sound, more than anything, that caused Dad to snap. "Do you hear that?"

"It's just the cars, Dad," Mira said. "They're scratching on each other."

But the sounds continued, the loud screams of metal scratching against each other as Dad grew increasingly nervous and agitated. "No, they're human. They're not cars. They're human screams–"

"No one lives around here," Mom replied. "It's long been abandoned."

"Maybe they got caught in the ocean while scavenging. I knew that this was a bad idea," Dad said, now more angry than irritated. "Just listen. They're human. Someone's out there."

I guess I suddenly began getting scared for Caspian and his mom too because they've probably faced the same trauma: the screams of the people drowning in the darkness, their cries so close and so far at the same time. I didn't want Dad's fear to spread through our group. Even though Caspian and his mom seemed only a bit nervous, maybe because they've had to scavenge near the ocean during the mysterious time before they met us, I was worried that they would spiral.

"Let's just head back," Mom replied, reaching out her hand, but Dad pushed it away.

I think he was about to say something, but he just collapsed on the ground, trembling and struggling to breathe. Mom and Mira both rushed towards him while May, Caspian, and I just stood in the sidelines, a bit shell-shocked. I think that was even too hard for Caspian to watch because he faced away from Dad as his mom rushed towards Dad.

"Give him space," she said to Mom and Mira. "He's having a panic attack right now. All the kids, you guys go ahead, and Michelle, I want you to stay with your husband."

"Alright," Mom said before turning to all of us. "You guys know how to–"

"Yes," Mira said. "We remember from last time."

"Good," Mom replied, rubbing her fingers against her forehead with stress. "Look, I know this is hard to watch. Your father–"

"We know," Mira replied. "We all do."

I could see that answer crushed Mom a bit, even if she knew that there was no chance that we didn't know. She hurried back to Dad as Caspian's mom guided Dad through a series of deep breathing exercises to calm him down a bit. When Mom noticed that we were standing still, staring, she motioned with her hands for us to leave, and we all did without looking back at Dad, the shield he built to hide his struggles washed away by the ocean in front of all of us.

The rest of the trip was tense, and we all didn't talk that much, abandoning the light joking and cheeriness that had defined the previous time we set up the net. I think all of us wanted to just forget what had happened to Dad in front of us because it was hard to watch and probably even harder to discuss. When we spotted the streetlights that we had tied the net to the first time, a neighborhood that was so ground down by the tides that I had nearly not recognized it from before.

The homes were stripped of color and mostly collapsed, leaving just smashed up walls and rotting planks scattered around us, and we had to navigate the area carefully to avoid stepping on shattered glass, though most of the edges were dulled. While we were in the middle of setting up the net, Caspian's mom arrived and told us that Mom and Dad had gone back home to get some rest and that Dad was doing better now. We all sighed with relief, the tension fading a bit, as Caspian used the ladder to secure the top corners of the net while the rest of us worked on the bottom corners.

Although the net was a bit limp, that should be fine since we didn't want it to be too tight because otherwise, fish would just bounce off the net. While we were walking back, I guess I had an idea of how to help Dad, or at least get him closer to getting help, as I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and approached Caspian's mom. "Hey.".

"Do you need something?" she asked.

"I guess I was wondering if you'd be able to help my dad," I replied. "I mean, Caspian has told me all about how great of a doctor you are–"

"What your dad needs is a therapist, not a doctor," she said. "I'm not too familiar with that, but I'll try, only if he comes to me and actively seeks help. I'm not in a position to deal with a reluctant patient right now."

"Yeah, that's alright. I guess we'll try," I replied.

"Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. It's about my son," she said. "I've noticed that he has gone back to playing volleyball–"

"Yeah, he's, like, very good at it. And he's a good teacher."

"I know," she said, her eyebrows furrowing. "But I'm concerned that he's rushing into this too fast. I know that he has bad days, and I know you know that. Going back to all the things he used to do before might make those days worse since it may trigger memories that will be hard to deal with."

"Yeah, I get it," I replied. "But, like, he's doing a lot better, you know."

"I don't want him to fall into the same hole as your dad," she said, her voice stern with an odd undercurrent of compassion instead of the typical coldness. "Or my husband. I'm sure you're mature enough to know how hard that will be for all of us. I know that volleyball can be fun, but it's too much of a risk. The brain is our most fragile organ."

"Alright," I replied, nervously biting my lip because I was intimidated by her and began walking a bit slower as she speed walked ahead.

"So what were you and my mom talking about?" Caspian asked, jogging to catch up with me as soon as I was out of earshot of his mom. "Oh, is it about medical stuff? In that case, I shouldn't–"

"No, it's not medical," I replied, motioning with my hands. "It's just about, you know..."

"Your dad, huh?"

"Yeah," I responded. "I don't think he meant for you to see him like that. Well, for the rest of us too."

"Did you guys know what was going on with him?"

"I mean, yeah," I replied. "But we kinda just pretended not to notice, you know, to make him feel better about himself. I don't think that my dad likes to talk about stuff like this, you know."

"It was the same with Dad," he replied a bit softly. "He went through the same struggles as your dad–maybe not the same but something similar–and never wanted to show what he was going through. It must be a thing that dads do, probably learned it from their dads too and so on."

"It's like one messed-up cycle," I replied. "Did he ever figure it out or fix it? I guess I heard that therapy might help, which is why I've been talking with your mom, and I know she's a doctor and not a–"

"She gave you the whole 'he needs to help himself first' speech, huh?" he said, and I nodded. "As much as I hate to admit it, she's right. Dad's on his way to fixing it, but he never wants to admit out-loud that he's struggling, at least not to us, and it's not like we can force him to get better, even if it's hella tempting."

"Feels like we're stuck..."

"You should talk to your dad," Caspian replied. "I know you've got sisters, but he's going to do the same-old macho crap around them. If you talk to him, maybe there's a chance that he'll take Mom's offer–"

"I don't think I can talk to him."

"I get that it's a tough conversation, but–"

"It's different. It's not like you and your dad," I replied, looking down at the ground because I had a hard time meeting his eyes when talking about this. "Things are a lot more complicated between my dad and me. I don't know, that's all I can say really. It's just complicated."

"Well, hopefully your dad gets better," he said, wordlessly acknowledging that I didn't want to continue by abruptly ending that conversation as we continued on with a more normal one. I guess I was thankful because if he kept pushing me, I was worried that I was going to spill about what had happened to Charles. And I don't want him to see me at my ugliest, even if I've seen him at his darkest moments.

When we got home, we saw that the Shepards had dropped off a ton of board games and other game supplies, like rings, balls, and pucks that we could fashion into carnival games. When I was lifting board game boxes and moving them onto a table, I noticed that the Shepards had actually found a dart board, so it looks like that challenge between me and Caspian is going to happen tomorrow.

Dad had gone to sleep early in his room, I think, and Mom had given him one of her blankets along with his so that he could stay warm at night. Outside of the greenhouse and the living room, our house becomes frigid cold at night, and I can't imagine why Dad would sleep by himself, especially since he'd be sleeping on the floor because his mattress is still in the living room. The only reason would be that he's too embarrassed to face us, his pride once again getting the best of him. Though I probably shouldn't be that judgemental because if that happened to me, there's a decent chance that I would've made the same decision

Still, Dad's disappearance was a bit unsettling, and while we were setting up the ring-toss station, lining up empty cans on top of books, stacked in a stair formation, May decided to break the awkward tension. "So are we, like, not going to talk about what happened to..."

She pointed at the master bedroom, and I shrugged while Mira said, "Let's save that conversation for another time."

"Well, I just don't want people to be depressed and all during the feast, like you two are," May said. "I'm just saying..."

"I just wish that Dad was honest to us," Mira replied. "I wouldn't judge him for what he's going through, and you guys wouldn't be judgemental, right?"

May and I both nodded before May said, "I don't know. Everything is just really awkward right now."

"Let's just not make Dad feel awkward tomorrow," Mira said, sighing a bit. "We'll just pretend that nothing happened yesterday afternoon."

"But I thought that you hated lying. So isn't pretending literally lying? It's, what is that called, Neal–"

"Lie by omission," I said, though I groaned on the outside because I should've known better than to fuel May's occasional impulse to paint Mira as a hypocrite.

Mira gave me an annoyed look as May turned and pointed at me. "That."

"Well, talking to Dad about this would require us to have an awkward conversation that no one truly wants, and do you really want that right now?" Mira said, and May shook her head. "Let's save it for later. Trying to put our best food forward isn't lying if no one wants to see what's behind the curtain."

"I literally don't want things to do wrong tomorrow," May said. "What happened with Dad today, it was pretty harmless. No one but us and Caspian's family saw it. But anything that happens tomorrow, it'll actually affect us all."

"Everything's going to be alright," Mira replied. "Nothing's going to happen with Dad, hopefully."

"Hopefully, we will all pull ourselves together by tomorrow," May replied. "Remind me to wake up early to wash my hair. My hair's like a rat's nest right now. It's so filthy."

That was an obvious deflection, but I think May trapped herself in a corner by taunting Mira to confront Dad. Maybe a part of it was a bit malicious, but to be honest, I don't think any one of us really wants to deal with the thorny questions surrounding Dad, even as it haunted us as we finished setting up most of the game stations.

There were just so many game stations, our house crammed with old-fashioned wood pinboard stations next to a ring toss using a coat rack instead of cans, which itself was next to an "apple" bobbing station where we used styrofoam balls. After we had gotten all of the games that the Shepards had brought settled down, May and Mira began sweeping through with the finishing touches, making sure that dropping signs were placed upright, that leaves that had fallen from the twine were re-attached, that all of our signs were brushed with just a bit of glitter to add a bit of pizazz. I checked up on the mung beans that I had been soaking, and it seems like they've sprouted nicely as I changed out the water and let them dry out.

The only part of our house unfinished were the game stations in Dad's room, but croquet and shuffleboard are fairly simple to set up so that won't be much of an issue tomorrow morning. In the meantime, Mira, May, and I practiced ring toss, just to make sure that the station functions properly (and totally not to practice for tomorrow), and tested a bunch of the other games until both of them got tired enough that their nerves calmed down.

It's understandable that they're nervous. If this were a movie, there'd be so blaring red warning signs that tomorrow is going to be a complete disaster simply because things have been going too well. With Dad's struggles and the Shepards' suspicious behavior and the likely presence of bandits somewhere around us, now's the time for disaster to strike, to surprise and horrify audiences who were rooting for the plucky protagonists to succeed.

Luckily, real life doesn't follow the same machinations as films. Sometimes, life just sends soul-crushing loss after soul-crushing loss, but at other moments, like this one, it's sending this rare beam of hope. I'd like to think that I truly believe that tomorrow's going to be as magical as Mira's wedding, a memory that's only a few months old but felt so long ago that at first glance, it feels like one of those gold-washed childhood memories, a hazy feeling of foodness.

But this time, there's no inevitable loss, no impending heartbreak that taints the memory blue. If anything, I've got hope that this event will be just the opposite: that it'd be the turning point in bringing our community together for good.

It's weird how that sounds awfully like what I thought Mira was going to say to Caspian's mom to convince her to support the Thanksgiving feast. Maybe I'm the craziest dreamer here.